Contract
by Sherryn1
Summary: A look into one of Phoebe Halliwell's past lives..... They say u meet ur soulmate in ur past lives, well, perhaps an intersection between her's and Cole Turner's previous characters will occur. so sorry, but Piper, Paige, Prue, nor Leo r in this.
1. Pendant

Hey, this is Sherry.

i know, im all broken up about it 2. K, ur probably lost, but since u followed the link, then u know sumthing about phoebe and cole. Tragedy, isn't it? The belonged 2gether. (sigh).

well, this is phoebe's past life. The idea was came to me in the middle of algebra (I know, dats where most of my ideas come, but wat do u expect me to do, pay attention?). Anyway, I won't tell you who phoebe is, but u'll probably figure it out. I know how hard it is to accept different time-lines, but plz bear w/ me here, i promise u'll luv it! Im also gonna thank u (if u've gotten dis far) 4 bothering w/ this, normally, i don't read AU's either, but im trying sumthing new, so, dats all 4 now, enjoy the story…………………….

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"If he keeps this up we'll have him slaughtered!" an out-raged horse-tamer roared. His latest protégée was refusing to cooperate. It was an Arabian horse, young, and very powerful, yet to be broken. The last two accomplices the tamer had sent were both terrified of getting within a meter range of the livid beast. A sleek black coat covered its sturdy muscles, the mane, dark as well, was tinted with red. It was a majestic creature. But dangerous as well.

"NO!" a young woman ran through the courtyard to the horse's pen. "You will do no such thing." She commanded, her face set in determination, a wild mass of curly hair blowing around her heart-shaped face, and large chocolate colored eyes. Her dress, a passionate crimson, matched her persona, the loose, long skirts folding around her legs, it revealed her ivory shoulders, the fabric hugging and hiding every curve. She was a beauty, but a foolish girl, no less. The tamer tried to reason with her.

"Duchess, please, the horse is uncontrollable."

"Then allow me to tame him, Christophe." She offered as if she were offering an invitation to a ball, rather than to discipline a monster that could send her past the seven seas with one swift kick. Christophe tried to stifle his laughter.

"Malady, that horse could easily kill you. He is dangerous, and must be removed immediately."

"At least let me try." She stated gently, blinking her eyes seductively, it took all of Christophe's power to resist.

"I cannot allow it."

"Then don't" the girl replied flippantly, and sprinted to the animal's pen, and through the gates, locking them behind her. 'Oh dear god' Christophe thought 'what will her father say when he finds out the duchess was killed by a horse, and I allowed it, I shall be fortunate to come out of the council alive!'.

She approached the horse slowly, it stood still. She began humming, quietly at first, and then louder, until she began singing, sweetly. She had the loveliest voice, anyone who had heard her would agree, but now she was singing softly, so only the creature facing her would hear. It seemed to calm down. She stepped a bit closer, suddenly; the beast rose on its hind legs, and moaned furiously, kicking its front legs violently. Christophe, who had been watching with wonder, now wanted to hide, the idiotic girl, thought she could cultivate this brute when men twice her size had failed? Her death would determine his fate.

The horse, now nearly reaching two and a half meters faced her. She reached up and grabbed it's nuzzle, holding onto it despite the animal's struggles to flee from her grasp. She pulled it down further until it was facing her, looking into its eyes, she whispered gently.

"You're a strong one aren't you, you're not gonna be tamed. You're wild; I wish I could be like you. Free. And so powerful, like a demon. That's what I'll call you, you're my Demon, aren't you, baby. All mine. No one can break you, darling. No one."

It was silent now, looking back into her eyes. It trusted her. She ran her hand along its silky mane, and climbed on top. The horse wore no saddle, yet she was able to gracefully balance herself on it. Leaning down, she murmured one word into his ear.

"Go." The horse charged forward with such speed, she should have been thrown off, she wasn't. It rode up to the gate, and stopped. Shrieks of joy emerged from the crowd.

"The duchess has tamed the Arabian beast!"

Smiling, she got off of the horse. Christophe reached her immediately.

"Great work, malady, I knew you would succeed." Alright, a small lie, but she knows it is not the truth, "Now, allow me to take him off of your hands, however, his taming was at your hand, what do you wish to name him?"

"His name is Demon, and Christophe, this is my personal horse, ensure that no other rides him."

Christophe's reply was cut short by the horses loud detests at being led away by the stable hand. She walked up to him, and whispered a few words in his ear, and after he was agreeably taken. 'The girl's a miracle worker' the tamer thought to himself. Pity, no one ever found out what she had whispered to the horse.

"Cassandra!" a strict voice boomed from the courtyard. It was Madame De Winter, Duchess Cassandra's personal tutor. She was hired for the girl by her father to make sure she didn't get into too much trouble. She failed miserably. Of course, her father knew this; it was more for his personal amusement to see the Madame fuming daily over his daughter's behavior.

"Cassandra Beudon, (pronounced Badon) what in the world are you doing in the horse pen, you are meant to be completing your Latin translation." Cassandra sighed, she was twenty-one, and perfectly capable of translating a chapter of Latin, it was actually meant as more of an activity to keep her busy, than a lesson meant for learning.

"I already completed it, Madame." Alright, a little falsity, but the Madame no longer scrutinized her every word like she did when Cassandra was twelve.

"Well, come along then, you need to prepare for the afternoon tea, you are expecting visitors." The Madame retorted, then turned around haughtily, and rushed back to the mansion. Cassandra obliged, and began gracefully moving after her, cursing under her breath, in words no lady should have ever even heard.

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Power. Strength. Might. Force. Authority. Influence. Control. Supremacy. Dominance. Sway. Command. Vigor. Intensity. Ability. Capacity. Potential. Danger.

All contained in a glass ball.

He smiled. And it was his. All his.

He hovered over a small fragile sphere of burning light. Inside it, power, striking out like lightening, but held within the globe, raged furiously. Fueled by his words, spoken softly in Latin, loud enough only so they reached its surface. It was growing stronger. No, not growing, awakening, from a dormant state. One it had been in far too long.

He ran one gloved hand over the smooth, sleek, almost fluid surface. Still cold, despite of the heat contained within.

"Lucifer, I've found it! I've finally found it!"

The man turned to face the thrilled woman behind him, overjoyed with the end of her quest. Her tall, slim stature covered in a tight black dress. Straight white-blonde hair hung around her face, and her pristine snow-white skin created contrast between her ruby-red lips, and sparkling green eyes, shining with the intensity of youth and hope. She clutched a few sheets of paper in her hands.

She was very beautiful. And smart, just a bit too, naïve. Now he faced her fully, irritated she had interrupted his chant. She ignored her companion's lack of excitement and continued, pacing around the cavern restlessly, the wide smile never leaving her face.

"We've done it, Lucifer. I've found the spell, now the power can be, will be, ours!"

"No. Not ours Zelda, mine." Lucifer responded, purring her name, the words murmured slowly, emotionlessly. Set in stone. He face fell, the smile disappeared.

"What? You promised, Lucifer, you promised me." She cried, tears brimming her eyes, but fury flaring out of her words.

"Yes, I know. But, that changed. Things change. See, you've found what I need. But, I no longer need you. So, leave." He answered absently, stretching each word out, each seeming to form a sentence of their own. He had turned around half way through his irreverent statement, and was once again staring at the globe.

"Leave? I have every right over the forbidden arts! You, you would be **nothing **without me!"

"Yes, but that was a long time ago. And now, I have what I wanted." He motioned toward the glass dome, the energy enclosed in it now silent.

"That power is as much mine as it is yours. More!" she screamed, reaching for it desperately. He grabbed her wrist firmly, holding it so tight she writhed pain. A fire danced in his eyes, but his voice was just as fluid and calm.

"No, wrong again, Zelda, so, leave," He paused, a ball of pure energy forming in his hand "before I make you."

She cried out, pulling her hand away from his grip. Then her body fell down-wards, liquidizing into a thick black puddle. It re-appeared in her private chambers, rising from the ground, forming back into her shape. Her hands formed into fists, and she cried in anguish.

"It belonged to me, that power belonged to me!" she sobbed, dropping down to the ground, her entire body shaking with anger. She thought he loved her. She thought he cared. "You used me!"

"DAMN YOU, BLOODY HOAR!" Lucifer roared in his cavern. The spell, she had gone with the spell, he needed the spell. Trying to calm his aggravation, he re-appeared in her chambers, to find the woman he had once seen as so strong, huddled asleep on the floor. She had been so easy to lure, with the promise of power, she had rushed over to his side. But the spell, it was no longer in her hand.

Enraged once more, he turned around, his mid-night black cloak spinning around his strong body. The anger died down once he saw the papers near the burning fire. The edges slightly charred. They must have fallen out of the fire. He smiled cunningly. The hoar never had aim. Picking them up wistfully, he once again re-appeared in the cavern.

His smile was exchanged for a look of horror. Soldiers. The Governor's soldiers had flooded his cavern, overturning tables, throwing vials of the most precious potions on the ground, burning spells that had taken years to complete. His hand, the one that held the charred papers in, went limp, and dropped them on the ground. One of the soldiers was about to smash the globe Lucifer held so dear.

"Wait." A man in his twenties approached the soldier. He was dressed not in the uniform, but clothing far too rich for anything other than the best. His short, yet strong body approached the soldier, and took the globe from him. "Allow me to take this."

The soldier bowed his head, and continued on his quest to demolish everything that Lucifer had worked for. Everything he held dear. "Phillip" he hissed under his breath recognizing the governor's son. He couldn't see his face from that position, but he would recognize that voice any-where.

Realizing there was nothing left here any-more, and that he would soon be discovered, he faded away. A few minutes later, the soldiers left the havoc that was, to them, nothing but a mission, leaving behind a mess of shattered glass, and ashes. They did not notice the few sheets of slightly charred paper laying on the ground.

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Cassandra woke with a start. She looked around the room, frightened of what she might see, but sighed with relief as she recognized the plush setting of her bedroom. Slowly, she slid out of bed, from between the massive, plump pillows. Her tight, laced, oh-so-delicate white night-gown reached the ground as she moved from under the canopy, and reached for the ornate handle of one of the smaller drawers of her dresser.

She removed the sheets of loose paper, diary, and boxes of jewels that greeted her when she pulled the drawer open. Reaching to the back, her fingers found the small handle. Pulling it upward, the floor of her drawer pulled out. She carefully placed the wooden board on her dresser. Only then did she look down at the contents of the hidden section of her drawer.

She did not know what her night-mare had meant. She never did, but she had them. Often. Cassandra Badon was a smart- no-clever, girl. She knew that what she saw was not just a random sequence of images, create in one's un-conscience whilst they are asleep to review the events of the day. What she saw was real. She just didn't know how.

She lifted the delicate necklace from the dusty drawer. The pendant was suspended from a fragile silver chain, which was very beautiful, but the pendant itself. That was special. She knew it.

A small sphere. Crawling around it were silver vines, blackened with age. Embedded, sometimes hidden in them, were small glittering gems. She was not sure what they were, but they could easily hold her gaze. But it was not the frail, lovely, silver-work, or even the mysterious precious stones set in the most unusual design that peeked Cassandra's interest, it was something else.

In the glass sphere the pendant held, was a liquid. A deep violet color, caressed by the glass. She brushed her hair to the side, and slipped the necklace around her neck. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror, and wished that **he** could be here.

The content in the sphere began to change. It faded from purple to…..

Blood-red.

Cassandra smiled.

She knew the necklace's secret.

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Oooooh! Suspense. But u hav 2 wait 4 da rest (i refuse 2 update til' i get 10 reviews) meanwhile, try and guess who **he** is! then u can include ur guess when u press that cute little bluish button next 2 da words SUBMIT A REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I luv getting feed-back on my work, nd other phoebe/cole supporters. Thanx, so much, nd I'll c u 10 reviews l8tr! Buhbye ☺

p.s. feel free to send me a message, the we can talk about cole's amazingness, phoebe's coolness, and brad kern's evilness!


	2. Shadow Unseen

Yes, I kno I hvnt gotten all those reviews but I was tired of cing this document sitting on my desktop, so, here it is! feel free 2 ask any questions, I will personally answer all of them. So, enjoy!

It was still dark out. In a few hours the sun would rise, and cast eerie shadows over the countless flowers that lined the winding path leading from the mansion into the gardens. But for now, all was still.

Almost dead.

Like it was trying to warn her of something.

Cassandra shivered, as she ran her fingers over the cold glass of the window. Her thin nightgown kept her warm within her chambers, but not outside, where a raging spring thunderstorm was taking place. In the morning it would leave the flowers fresh, and the air clear, but during the night it was as if all the terrors in hell had burst through and conquered the silent night sky. And nobody would ever see it. Except her.

All the servants were long asleep, as well as her father, like she should be. Cassandra almost never did what she should. She glanced back down at the pendant dangling from her neck. Still red. It felt cold as it pressed against her skin. She missed him.

It had been two weeks since he had left beyond the country's borders to help resolve a problem that had risen, to stop it from dragging to war. She had not seen him since, but he would come back soon. She believed he would. She _needed_ to believe he would.

Another crack of lightning prevented her mind from drifting off, bringing her back to the all too true reality.

She was fully aware that sleep was impossible now, if not for the whipping bolts of electricity shooting from the clouds just mere feet outside her window, for the vision she had recently had. The details were blurring already, just as they do with any other dream, but of course, this was much more than any other dream. It was just fading too quickly, too quickly for her to try to make much sense of it. Normally it would stay within the corners of her mind for a longer period of time, but there had been exceptions.

Suddenly feeling the need to get out of her room, she slid off of the window-seat, and slipped off the night-gown. Stepping out of it, she approached a trunk in the corner of the room. After pushing aside piles and piles of fabric, the item she had been searching for was found. The tight black dress replaced the thin, lace embellished night-gown.

This particular dress was sewn by herself, and carefully hidden away from other's eyes. Particularly those of the many women, the Madame being the best example of which, who 

believe a girl of her social standing should constantly be dressed in jewel coated costumes that weigh three times as much as the wearer. For the reasons mentioned above, she retracted from wearing it to any event where people separate from the servants, and those she considered friends, to see.

But tonight she had selected it because of its color. After all, in the dead of the night, who can tell the difference between a shadow, swimming past one's line of vision, and a petite girl in black? Cassandra just needed one more item, or two, I might say.

From the bottom drawer of her dresser, a pair of ballet shoes was gently pulled out. The dance had first been pursued as an appropriate activity for young girls to teach grace and dignity. For Cassandra, if had developed into a constant hobby, later abandoned for the greater passion of ballroom dancing. However, she had remained fond of the dance, and kept a pair of shoes. Now they were used for different purposes than dancing on Pointe. After her many childish escapades of running away from Madame De Winter after a tedious lesson of arithmetic, Cassandra had discovered that when walking in ballet shoes, you don't have footsteps.

'I can't recall it hurting so much', she groaned as her legs balanced on tip-toe in the uncomfortable shoes. The familiar feeling, and the all too familiar pain, was something of a comfort.

She lifted a candle, along with its brass holder, from the bureau and held it steadily as she slowly opened the door. The dim glow of the candle cast light shadows across the hall. Fortunately, her father's bedroom was on the east wing whilst hers was on the west. The candle's light, though flickering in the breeze, was not difficult to notice in the still hallway.

Cassandra entered the drawing room, and, with experienced grace, went through the connecting door, and the separate stairwell. This was not the grand staircase, which was used by guests, and of course, her father and herself. The railing her hands skimmed over was in the stairway used by the servants. Not that she needed the railing; she had done this many times before.

The stairwell led to a series of four doors, behind the first was a side-entry to the maze in the garden, the other two eventually led up to the kitchen and the maid's sleeping quarters. The fourth entered the lower section of the palace. The section great pains had been taken to hide.

Cassandra carefully opened the door, and stepped inside the small room. She was faced with walls on all three sides, but experienced hands quickly found the handle that opened the wooden trap door. Although it had been years since she had entered this part of the palace, the routes of the underground quarters were still deeply embedded in her brain.

Groaning, she lifted the trap door. It had been much too heavy for her when she was young, and it was still too heavy for her now. She had discovered this place when she was twelve years of age. At the time some-one, she couldn't remember who, was looking for her, and wishing to get 

away, Cassandra searched around the palace for a hiding place. She had stumbled upon the hatch by mistake, a mistake she was all too glad to make. She had told no one of the lower quarters, and that resolve had only been strengthened when she learned what they had been used for…..

Of course, hiding away wasn't her reason for coming here, not today. She had felt drawn here tonight. As if it was calling her, beckoning faintly. The call only got stronger as she stepped through the trap door and landed softly on Pointe. The stone steps felt cool through her thin shoes. Cobwebs covered the walls thickly, and the air inside was heavy and made it difficult to breathe. The light of the candle revealed a long, empty corridor. Wooden doors with metal latches lined the hall. Each one containing a glorified prison of sorts.

Cassandra continued down the hall, not sure where she was going, but knowing that she was going _somewhere_. Her feet where already sore, but she continued. At last, the pain coursing through her legs overcame her will to continue, and using the wall for support, Cassandra stopped and tried to concentrate on making the ache disappear.

Cassandra didn't mind pain. She was used to pain; at least she thought she was. The thing that was really holding her back was the un-ignorable feeling of dread pulling at her heart. As if realizing her hesitance, the hall responded.

It was very faint, at first; a low hum that echoed through the corridor. Cassandra moved towards its source, forgetting about the pain searing though her legs. It got louder the closer she got, eventually becoming a chant. Intense, but still hushed. She recognized the tone immediately as Latin, but the words were still unintelligible.

Making a sharp turn to the left, Cassandra noticed a flickering light coming through a wide crack in one of the doorways. That didn't make any sense; no one should be down here. Not that entrance was prohibited by anything. Stepping closer to the door, Cassandra leaned against the wall to the left of the entrance.

She froze.

A complete sense of dread spread through her along with regret of her knowledge of Latin. Who did this room contain?

Suddenly it dawned on her.

Her heart started pounding vigorously with the recognition of the voice. Her shoulders pressed back against the wall, her hands hovered over her temples to try and prevent the absolute feeling of panic. Although her candle had been turned off before she approached the open door, Cassandra felt as if she was smoldering in the dark hallway, gasping for oxygen that did not seem to be there.

She felt a throbbing pain on her chest, looking down; Cassandra saw her pendent was violently radiating red. Quickly, she grabbed the small sphere to see the bright red marks left on her skin. The pendent burned her hand, enough for her to emit a small wail.

He noticed.

She heard the sound of the fabric of his heavy velvet cape as he turned to face the door. She only caught a glimpse of red hair as she sleuthly dashed as far away from the door as possible. Running up the steps, Cassandra threw herself into the drawing room, slammed the door shut, and leaned against it, breathing heavily.

He stepped outside. The corridor was empty. Silence cloaked the hall like a curse. Suddenly, a glimmer caught his eye. Looking down, he saw a brass candle-holder. Someone had definitely been here. But who?

"Cassandra! May I enter? I have a small surprise for you."

The voice broke her out of her thoughts. She had been sitting on the window ledge with a haunted look on her face since she had returned from her midnight snooping. Quickly throwing a robe over her shoulders, she answered "Come in."

Cassandra was greeted by the sight of her father, a look of delight on his face, holding a long thin box. She smiled warily. Her father failed to notice her melancholy expression and proceeded to present her with her gift.

"The Prince, and _direct_ heir to the throne," her father emphasized "of Austria is due to arrive from Britain today, for an important business proposition. Many other members of the royal family are also coming, and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to show them my beautiful daughter, the Spanish duchess."

Cassandra's face lit up at the news of the arrival of the prince, _her _prince. Her father did not know how intimately close she was to the Prince of Austria. He only wished to impress all of the royalty attending. Not in his wildest dreams would he imagine his daughter as the Prince's mistress. She was, of course, of royal blood. Yet there were much more politically convenient women at the Prince's disposal. She was still a worthy commodity, although it was highly questionable that he chose her for her blood linked assets.

Cassandra was pulled out of her thoughts when her father began his description.

"Hand-made by a notable Italian designer, the same one, I believe, that you sent a complaint to."

She had indeed mailed an incredibly long letter describing all of the sexist attributes that particular designer's clothing encouraged. She had stated he should not design "attire that applauded women sacrificing comfort to impress men with what is only the latest fashion". By this she had been referring to the jewel en-crusted costumes that required the wearer to tie a metal cage around their waste solely to support the weight of the full skirts. The very dresses that her superiors considered proper apparel for a lady of her standing.

The Duke smiled at the mere thought of the letter the designer had returned after having received hers. Cassandra was not known to keep her thoughts to herself, but he looked at her with only pride. She was strong, such a refreshing change from her mother…..

"Frederica crafted this dress only for your satisfaction; he promised it would please you." Her father commented while placing the box in her hands. Cassandra thanked him distractedly, already overjoyed at the prospect of seeing Derek again. She ushered him out with words of a dance lesson. After he left, a bit too slowly for her preference, Cassandra leaned against the door, trying desperately to repress the ecstasy that coursed through her and regain an ounce of composure. He was back!

"Hold her closer, Phillip, she's not diseased!" commanded a robust man, Malinovsky, in a strong German accent. With a mumbled groan, he pulled her slightly closer to him. Cassandra laughed at his reluctance. Although they were not related by blood, she and Phillip were raised together, and thought of each other as siblings. It was difficult learning to perform ballroom dancing as siblings. However, months of practice had produced impressive results.

Phillip directed her away from him, and whilst on the tip of her toes, a skill acquired from years of rigorous ballet, she began to spin. She continued turning until her skirt lifted up to reveal her bronzed lower thighs, and the instructor began complaining about Phillip's foolishness. Why he never criticized Cassandra Phillip could not understand.

The numerous turns completed, Phillip drew her towards him once again, and prepared to lift her up, and….

The German choreographer's cry was too late, and the two collapsed on the floor in a pile. Cassandra's skirt spread around her like a blanket while Phillip lay in a jumbled heap. Laughing, she slapped him playfully and teased "What sort of a man cannot lift a lady. Have you gained nothing from our lessons?"

"Oh, as if you are not only taking them to impress your prince!" he retorted.

"Absolutely not!" replied Cassandra innocently. He knew about their relationship, of course he knew. He had deciphered her cheerful moods at the very beginning of their association.

"Cassandra! What are you doing?"

"Madame De Winter!" she looked up in surprise at the disapproving woman, who was already pulling her up while chastising her behavior.

"The Prince's ship is due to arrive any moment and you are playing with your cousin, and on the ground no less. A lady must not do such things, and my god, what are you wearing? A woman must not wear such clothing in the presence of a man! Cassandra, will you never learn?"

The Madame grabbed Cassandra's hand and yanked her forward as she continued scolding her in screams. Cassandra, helpless to the strong woman's grip, flashed a careless smile and managed to turn around and wave Phillip goodbye before disappearing from view.

"Cassandra, that is truly nasty!" giggled Lady Adelaide while running down the corridor along with four of the other ladies of the royal court and the duchess. The thin pink material of Cassandra's skirt spilling around her legs.

Silvia, being slightly more mature reminded the sensual duchess "Did the Madame not forbid you from reading literature with titles such as" she paused to snatch the book out of Adelaide's hands "The Art of Intercourse?"

"Oh, Silvia, why must u be so _rigid_? I am simply educating myself!" Cassandra replied mischievously.

"Yes, rumor has it that you and Lord Bryson have, shall I say, studied before!" Pearl whispered, while Lady Edlyn remained silent. It was no secret that she was indeed a virgin. If her father had found out that a lady of her breeding was anything less, she would be slaughtered without hesitation.

Meanwhile Cassandra's father was far too obsessed with his quest for power to take note of her extracurricular activities.

Through all of the whispers and the stifled laughter that soon followed them, it would not have required much for Cassandra not to hear the words spoken on the other side of the ornamented wooden door.

But she did.

They were not meant to be there at all. Cassandra had once again managed to slip under Madame De Winter's line of vision. The French were known for their ignorance. But they were, and she had heard those few crucial words that altered the course of her life irreversibly.

"I take it you shall remain at our fair shores to gain better control of the armada."

"Understandably, that can be changed, things change."

She could feel the blood literally drain out of her face. Adelaide noticed the duchess's sudden tension and gave her a questioning look. Cassandra spoke before anything could be asked.

"Go!" she motioned softly, and watched as the young women filed out of the hall at her command. It was not the first voice that disturbed Cassandra, fore that was only her father. It was he who replied. With her back against the door, Cassandra was determined to force herself to listen to voice that belonged to the man whose face haunted her dreams, and whose body haunted the corridors of this very palace.

"Lucifer, I find it difficult to express my joy at your assistance." Her father's words sickened her to the core. She grabbed the sides of her waist in an attempt to lessen the dizziness overwhelming her frame. She tried to slow her gasps for air, having heard enough, she began to dash away from the door. Unfortunately her light foot-steps did not go unheard.

"Cassandra, is that you?" The Duke reached to open the door to reveal his daughter. "Ah, darling, I am so glad you are here. I would like you to meet Lord Lucifer Nex who has kindly offered to aide me with the control of the Armada.

"I know who he is." Cassandra spit out, just managing to hide the quivering fear in her voice.

"Eduardo, quite a fiery daughter you have on your hands." Lucifer offered good naturedly.

The Duke chuckled nervously, "Yes, she can get a bit feisty. Cassandra, may I speak with you in private?" Excusing herself from the Lord's presence, father and daughter ventured outside the room, where the joyful expression on the Duke's face changed to one of hatred.

"That man is one of the most influential figures in all of Europe, how _dare_ you speak to him in such a manner!" Cassandra did not know, or comprehend much of what she had seen in her dream, but she knew that any influence Lord Lucifer might have would not be positive.

'That man is not who you think he is!" she replied angrily, but able to control the volume of her tone.

Her father wearily, yet aggressively responded "Cassandra, I am sixty-seven years of age and have no heir. I need someone to lead the Spanish armada after my time, and Lord Lucifer is a wonderful candidate. We need him for this family name to stay in power, there is no other way."

"You cannot just relinquish control to a man you barely know!"

"I can, and have. There will be no more discussion on this topic."

"But father,"

"No, Cassandra. There is no questioning this. I am getting weak and need help controlling the fleet. Lord Nex is no less than a god-send and I will not tolerate you ruining this family's last chance. Now I suggest you re-enter that room and apologize for your rude behavior immediately."

But Cassandra was already backing away from her father, her head shaking in disbelief. When she was far enough she turned and ran as fast and far from that man as she possibly could, meanwhile trying to block out the image of his face. How could her father trust such a man?

How could she let him?

So wat do u think of it so far – I kno a way u could tell me! Submit a review! It only takes an average of 15 seconds of ur day (I timed, just a little bit sad) but it makes my day, nd u don't even hav 2 write a long review. All it takes is one word, yes or no. the question is: do u think my work is good enuf 2 buy? so go ahead, make my day, even if I didn't make urs…


	3. Pride

Lately I've been forgetting to write this stuff, so here it is

Disclaimer: I own everything! :D

Archive: You can with any of my other stories, but not with this particular one, although I doubt that is going to prevent anyone who wants to from doing it anyway….

Ladies and gentlemen (even though most of my readers are, in fact, ladies) here is the first appearance of COLE TURNER (albeit not called by that name, I can't call his past life that as-well) I know so many of many you guys have been waiting for him to finally show up, so, viola! And readers be warned, this chapter contains some sexual content (don't worry, not smut)! Anyone who has read my previous chapters might notice the disappearance of internet short-hand, but I categorized that as compromisable, for professionalism's sake. That does not mean I will bend to the rules of grammar completely – at least not in my author's notes…. Anyhow, you know the drill, enjoy! Oh, nd btw, for our purposes, just imagine her playing the first 73 seconds of the song "Good Enough" by Evanescence, minus the violin accompaniment, of course. Sorry for the long A.N., so here's the actual chapter….

Sweet melancholy music filled the ballroom with its soft melody, summoning memories of dancers that glided across the same floor with ease.

The area was deserted, well, almost.

The room's lone inhabitant was a young woman who sat behind the grand piano placed in the center of the room. The pink skirt of her dress draped over the seat behind her. Her fingers danced across the keys with acquired skill. She no longer needed to look downwards to register her hands' movements; the notes had been memorized long ago. Her eyes were closed as she tried to drown the events of the past hour in the music's rhythm.

She was succeeding.

Music had always been Cassandra's refuge, her solitude. It seemed like everything could disappear if only she forgot. The beat began to thicken and Cassandra frowned slightly as she continued to play the harmony flawlessly. Meanwhile, a man stepped across the threshold of the main entrance of the East wing of the palace. The maid who took his cape gave him a shy smile before blushing and vanishing to put it away. He was intimidatingly handsome. Tall stature, strong stance, deep blue eyes……

Another servant greeted him, "Your highness, may I assist you in any way?"

Recently Derek had become quite friendly with the help at this particular palace. His frequent visits left Duke Beudon awestruck, yet he obligingly, and joyfully, paid the fortune it took for a 

royal visit. Any connection the Beudon name had with power was priceless, and Derek was the very definition of power.

His name was in fact Theodoric, meaning "ruler of the people". His father had high hopes for his first son, hopes that led him to believe Derek was the rightful heir to the throne, despite his defiance of Catholicism, and the existence of an older sibling, a sister. However, Helena was a much more suitable candidate. Derek's love of fine wine, travel, and indulging in frequent visits from the ladies of the Austrian Royal Court were hardly respected characteristics of a monarch. Helena's serious and focused manner was. She was also a devout Catholic and supported heavily by the Church.

Their mother was Catholic.

Their father was protestant.

The old man was now on his deathbed, yet it seemed as if he refused to die. Months had passed and he grew frailer each day, yet not weak enough to move on. Many quietly awaited his death, hoping to come into some power. Derek was not one of them. He had many plans for the betterment of the country, but was not yet ready to sacrifice his freedom, and although he felt his father had failed the kingdom, he did not harbor ill wishes for the man.

Helena counted the days fervently.

She was due to arrive the same day to attend the ceremony. He would not allow thoughts of his sister tint their reunion.

"Yes, do you know where the duchess is?"

"I apologize, sire, but no. She has run off again." The old servant replied with a knowing gleam in her eyes. She had been young as well, once….

Derek immediately knew where she was.

Taking long strides, he headed for the West wing of the palace. That wing was no longer used, not since Isabella's death. The exact reason why Cassandra preferred it. He slowed his pace as he neared the source of the piano's sweet sound. Quietly stepping closer, he moved in to lean on the doorframe and allowed a smile to form on his face while he looked at the woman sitting in front of the piano, so absorbed in the music she did not notice his presence. The train of her skirt touching the floor, her softly curling hair reached her waist. As the music came to its climax, she suddenly stopped playing and stood up abruptly.

A smile spread across her face as she whispered his name. Quickly she turned around and ran toward him. He lifted her up and spun her around as her hands held onto his shoulders. Derek set her back down laughing and standing on the tip of her toes, her lips immediately sought his. Instinctively he deepened the kiss. Finally breaking for air, she whispered into his ear.

"I was so worried."

"I know, forgive me" he replied even as he buried his face in her hair, memorizing her scent, of apples, and Cassandra, and cinnamon, and Cassandra, and rose petals, and Cassandra…

Unable to hide her smile, she leaned in for yet another kiss, knowing very well what it would lead to. His arms surrounded her waist while his lips moved downward and he moaned her name into her neck. She used his shoulders for leverage as her legs circled his waist. His hands moved under her thighs to support her new position. As a result her back got pushed into the wall, and she hopelessly tried not to make any noise. The walls echoed loudly.

Suddenly he stopped. She groaned in detest, and was once again lowered to the ground.

"We shouldn't continue, your father is expecting me to greet him before the festivities begin in…." he checked his gold pocket watch "an hour."

"An hour? Oh, no, I have to get prepared." Cassandra shrieked. Tilted her head upward for one final kiss, and hurried out of the room while she called out "I love you."

Derek smiled silently as he watched her run out.

"Whoever invented corsets, I wish to kill _him_!" Adelaide cried as the maid behind her desperately tried to tighten the ribbons on the contraption even further. Her hands clutched a wooden bar in front of her so tightly her knuckles had already begun turning white.

The ladies of the Spanish Royal Court were all preparing for the upcoming ceremony in Cassandra's private chambers. The sun poured in from the many windows in the room as each woman attempted to make herself presentable.

"What makes you so quick to assume it is a man?" Lady Silvia, who was struggling to adjust the skirts of her dress, questioned.

"Because only a man would do this to a woman" she screeched as the maid continued to pull.

Cassandra now moved from behind the embossed divider in the corner of the room, wearing only a thin sheer dress.

"I disagree. What is the purpose of corsets anyhow, they only lace a woman out of her natural shape, and god knows _men_ prefer that." She now faced the large mirror and began arranging and re-arranging her hair.

Lady Paloma moved behind her "Women with slim waists such as yours may suggest that, but," glancing down at her own protruding stomach "those who are with-child may disagree."

After finally being trapped within the corset, Pearl joined them and leaned on the table, "Is there a particular man enjoying your natural shape? A little bird told me you and the _prince of Austria_…."

"The Prince!" Edlyn cried from across the room. "Your father will be so pleased."

"Pearl, don't gossip so much! Rumors are many, but few are true." Adelaide warned from her place in front of the wooden bar.

"Besides, even if that little bird speaks the truth, then Cassandra would not be the first to be enjoyed by the prince," the ever so practical Silvia added "he has had many mistresses, there is no way to ensure Cassandra is not just another one of his whores."

"Silvia!" Paloma gently slapped the younger woman. "I would hardly consider Cassandra just another whore!"

"Well that doesn't matter, because there is _nothing_ between me and the prince, although I have often wished there was…" Cassandra finally clarified as she made a meant note to yell at Phillip, for mentioning it to Pearl. It was obvious he fancied her, and could get a bit absent-minded when near her. "Now, where is that dress my father gave me?"

Cassandra stood in front of her mirror and smiled back at her reflection. The other women had run down to flirt with the palace guards, an activity that Cassandra had performed many times before, they were all quite fit. But now no other man attracted her.

No one but him.

She adjusted her dress. It was made of ivory silk, with gold embroidered lilies on the bust and back of the skirt. The loose sleeves, stiff train, and fitted waist of the shoulder-less dress complimented her shape. Federico had done well. Her hair was pulled gently to the side, while a few loose curls framed her face. She only wore one piece of jewelry.

The pendant emitted a deep violet shade.

Austrian ships formed an endless queue by the Spanish shores, tottering gently in the light wind. Their sails of rich purple released, creating a sea of their own.

Purple was the color of royalty.

Jokers, jesters, and dancers in colorful costumes pranced around the open space. The sweet smell of honey, dates, and freshly baked pastries and the sound of children's laughter filled the air. Royals mingled in the palace gardens. The rich fabrics of the women's dresses shone in the sun 

as they carefully made their way through the maze, some with a group of other women, and others with a male companion. Cassandra recognized Lord Bryson speaking to another gentleman. A group of young girls, about fifteen or sixteen, giggled and pointed fingers at him. He was a regular dazzler, although Cassandra thought him a bit self-righteous with no justification.

He was mediocre in bed.

A bit to the right the younger men rode on horse-back in the courtyard. Children ran amongst the bright flowers. It was a breath-taking view. The duke had taken much pain to prepare his home for them.

Cassandra viewed this scene from one of the palace windows, while waiting to be called for the announcements. Edlyn was the first to be called, then Pearl, Silvia, Adelaide, each escorted by a respectable gentleman, and after wards Paloma and her husband, Lord Jacques. The women were called in order of age, although Cassandra was younger than Adelaide, she would come last. After-all, she was the duke's daughter. Duke Phillip Fonesca would accompany her. Subsequent to them would be her father, and finally, the royal guest.

Prince Theodoric Zieler.

His sister's carriage was meant to arrive in a few hours. She was looking forward to meeting the only sibling of the man she loved.

Suddenly, Maria and Katarina, two of her personal maids, approached her.

"Duchess", Maria spoke, "It is your turn to be introduced."

Cassandra followed the two women to the grand entrance to the courtyard where Phillip was waiting for her. Paloma and Jean-Paul were waiting in front of them. Her friend winked at her before turning as the announcer's loud voice stated "Lady and Lord Jacques…."

The large carved doors swung open to reveal the couple. As they slowly made their way down the steps, the crowd clapped appropriately.

"Duchess Cassandra Beudon and Duke Phillip Fonseca"

Because they were not together, each was introduced using their full name. Cassandra looked through the crown for familiar faces as the too made her way down the steps gracefully. Phillip' sword presses against her dress uncomfortably. It was only there as decoration, stainless steel blade, jewel encrusted handle.

She took her position along with the other ladies while Phillip separated to join the other single gentlemen. Her father arrived next, attended with considerable cheers. Cassandra held her breath while waiting for the following introduction.

"And the guest of honor, his highness, Prince Theodoric Zieler of Austria!"

The applause started before he even walked out into the open.

He was loved by the Spanish people.

Cassandra beamed although she tried not to smile too brightly. No one could know of their relationship. The tall, dark, and handsome **man** walked down the steps with obvious authority. His expression was one of a king, even if he wasn't one by title. In his hand he clutched the Crown Sword of Austria, a gift from his father which symbolized his destiny.

Cassandra looked around to see the other women admiring his strong body, and masculine features. And his eyes.

He was an emotionless, powerful man in every sense of the word - except for those eyes. Those sapphire eyes that could see right through your soul. Those cerulean depths that she loved to get lost in…

He didn't make any eye contact with her as he walked down the steps in a way that clearly said 'I am more important than you'. Yet when he walked by her he spared a glance at her and she saw a familiar spark in his eyes.

'I love you'.

The moment he passed Adelaide elbowed her and Cassandra could barely repress her fit of giggles. He took his place at the throne prepared for him beside her father. The two shared many glances as the designer of the new vessel droned on for what seemed like hours, each trying not to burst out laughing. Luckily Cassandra was able to keep a straight face through-out the entire speech.

Soon enough, the guests were ushered into the ballroom. Her father had had every stone polished for this event. The room gleamed under the light of the many windows, the stained glass cast lively shadows on the walls. They would soon seem to dance with the setting sun.

The men and women immediately divided themselves into groups, the men admiring the scenery outside, and the women separated into clusters of five or six and began their methodical routine of gossip, each careful not to offend one another so they could later re-group and speak ill of their previous assemblage.

Derek watched as Cassandra walked toward the center of the ballroom. Strong. Beautiful. She spoke with a tall, thin, pale brunette. She laughed in that enchanting way she could. Suddenly he realized he was staring.

He did that a lot when he was around her.

He turned to face the man that had been speaking, and became conscious to the fact he had not heard a single word he had said.

"…..cannot believe how much the economy has suffered under his rule. The French have always been known to be selfish."

"He is gorgeous, isn't he?" Pearl giggled as she flipped her golden hair. "I envy the lucky girl that carries his affections." Adelaide once again nudged Cassandra.

"Ow!"

"So sorry."

More laughter.

Soon after Pearl headed toward a gentleman that had caught her eye, and Adelaide moved on to another crowd. And so Cassandra began her cycle from group to group as each lady was expected to do. She despised this meaningless mingling.

She had quite a bit of trouble focusing on what any of the women said, and not only because it was on yet another inter-family scandal, but because there were other thoughts swimming in her head.

Lord Lucifer.

Derek.

The pendant.

Helena.

Derek…..

"She's wearing purple!" Lady Anna gasped. All and sundry knew purple was a color meant solely for kings and queens. Neither was invited here. Cassandra followed her gaze to a woman that had just entered the room. Her raven-black hair hung loosely in a bun, away from her round face. A heavy diamond necklace was draped on her fair skin. Surely enough, the blue-eyed beauty exhibited a rich violet dress, or shall I say the dress exhibited her? Cassandra did not recognize the women, yet her air of authority and the way she held her head up high were strangely familiar.

She now rotated to a new cluster of whispering females. The infamous, out-spoken, Lady Francesca was already addressing the other members of the group.

"Can you believe the manner in which Princess Helena flaunts her indigo gown?"

Suddenly she looked up.

"_That_ is Princess Helena?"

"The one and only. She is said to be the very definition of a lady, yet anybody who is worth knowing can discern she wants the thrown _desperately_."

'So,' Cassandra though, 'this loud gesture is meant to state her position'. She watched Helena carefully as those around her murmured about "the Princess's nerve". Shorty, the princess saw her observer. She headed haughtily toward Cassandra. Standing in front of her, it was obvious Helena was significantly taller.

"And you are?" she asked sweetly, albeit with an under-tone of menace.

She matched Helena's pride with her own, "Duchess Cassandra Beudon."

"Aaah, so you are the little wretch that has been sleeping with my brother." She offered a sugar coated smile.

Cassandra remained silent while she concentrated on the marble floor.

"Soon enough I and the Catholic Church will rise to power and you **will** bow down to me as the rightful queen of Austria."

Cassandra finally met her eyes and smiled politely, "I'd rather be hanged."

The room was silent.

Now what are you gonna do? YOU ARE GONNA REVIEW!! Remember, just one word, yes or no (not that I discourage long reviews….). I know the plot's a bit twisted so if you think anything needs to be edited or clarified, lemme know, I DO care what you think, btw, this chapter didn't have anything related to magic in it, but the next chapter will, its MAJOR. Hope you liked my portrayal of Cole, that's all for now, ciao!


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